


Echoes

by TalesOfErynGalen



Series: Modern Amalur [1]
Category: Kingdoms of Amalur
Genre: Basically everything magic is dead or weak, Descendant of Fateless One, Excited Archaeologist Child, Exploring Modern Headcanons, F/M, Fae and Fae antics, Future Fic, Hallam is an extremely patient SoB, Mixed Race Protagonist, Modern Amalur, She looks just like the Fateless One and it confuses the Fae, Sloooooooow, Slow Burn, The Long Winter, This fandom is nearly dead but who cares, Very Far Future, We gonna change that, fae, Álfar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2019-08-14 18:18:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16497773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalesOfErynGalen/pseuds/TalesOfErynGalen
Summary: Alaina Fletcher was a damn good archaeologist, in her own opinion. To others, she was just some half-assed freeloader, taking advantage of unemployment checks while she chased the delusions that had gotten her fired. Despite this, Alaina knows there is something special about the notched stone orb she'd kept from her last dig. Months of research and investigation - not all of it precisely legal - led to one defining moment: stepping into an ancient hollow, one that had likely not seen a living soul since time out of mind, and finding Amalur's ancient legacy. The Fae, the same ones from the bedtime stories her mother used to tell. At least...what remained of them.Under the guidance of a weakened Fae, Alaina takes up the role of one of their ancient heroes in preparation to meet a rising threat that has been dormant for so long it isn't even told of in myth.





	1. First Contact

Alaina was what her mother liked to call “given to fits of imagination.” She'd certainly had her moments: dressing in billowing robes for a renaissance faire and not just acting the part of an ancient Alfar battlemage, but refusing to admit she  _ wasn't  _ in the fabled Faelands, fighting the Crystal War alongside General Tilera; taking her older brother's wolfdog and hunting boggarts in the forest that were really just clumps of bark and grass she'd fashioned into stacks the day before; Hell, she’d even gotten a rendition of an old Alfar tattoo for her eighteenth birthday. This, though...it couldn't be imagination.

It was real. So tantalizingly, jaw-droppingly real. She felt the grass tickle her legs above her boots, greener and softer than it had any right to be. Clumps of mushrooms grew at the fringes of the caverns, glowing iridescently when her flashlight wasn't focused on them. The scent of fresh groundwater, of ozone and wet earth, permeated the air. Lyria save her, this was  _ real. _

A breathless laugh escaped her in a rush. Almost five years of scraping and scrounging for every last tidbit of information, persisting when she was told her search was pointless, and here she was! All the research she’d done, all the  _ bribes  _ she’d made, and in the end all it took was a little elbow grease and a complete disregard for how hard it was raining. The hill had given way into a tunnel, just large enough to admit a mixed-race Alfar girl, and she was inexplicably standing in an underground forest. How the grass grew, the mushrooms glowed, or the thick, heavy roots were perfectly formed into walls, she didn't know. That was a question for later. For now, she set her backpack on the ground and lifted out her prize.

The orb had been the ultimate trigger for her ‘release’ from Motus Archaeological Consultant’s payroll. It was carved entirely of a heavy stone, almost too heavy for her to hold. Deep and elaborate furrows were set into it, narrow and deep at some points, wide and shallow at others. A deep, indented pit pockmarked with shards of gem showed that a crystal had likely been embedded there. Not a pointless trifle, in any case, but her site boss had told her to chuck it in the forest. Lots of travelers had come to old-time Uduath, and the orb had likely been left by them. Completely unrelated to the area’s indigenous population. It had been a stupid viewpoint. Alaina hadn't listened.

Honestly, who knew that taking a ‘pointless rock’ from a tired digsite would get her fired and kicked out of her company-given lodgings in Tine City? At least they hadn't been able to find the orb where it was nestled away in her still-unpacked travel bag, under the backseat of her car, so she had some semblance of her profession to continue with. And oh, what a payday this would be. Even if Motus wouldn't take her back, there were other companies who would gladly snatch her up, to be able to claim part in the discovery. They were mostly based in Adessa, but that didn't matter. The city had a bit of a sinister reputation - largely owing to “gnome trickery” - but a few friends in Motus had assured Alaina it was far better that northern media made it out to be...just to never visit the Undercity after dark.

What was the last mining company that  _ wasn't  _ Motus she'd seen? She cradled the orb in one arm and kept moving, clicking off the flashlight and finding the mushrooms glowed brightly enough she could still see clearly. Were they in Canneroc? It was a big city, absolutely overwhelming what had once been a majestic forest, but she was certain that while she'd been walking the downtown streets with Renee she'd seen a modest shop area set up for an archaeological company. Detyre International. That was it. She'd go talk to Detyre International, then, when she'd found out for herself whether this place had any connection to her stone.

The caverns were comfortingly quiet. Water rushed through unseen channels behind the walls, creating a soft cacophony that could have easily lulled Alaina to sleep, if she'd laid down. Nothing lived here besides the plants, as far as she could tell. The thick, lush vegetation still confused her. Was this some strain of plant life that didn't require sunlight to grow? There wasn't even a single opening in the whole of the system, so far. Her head pounded at the implications. Best to leave that to the biologists.

The mushrooms grew larger and brighter as she went, the grasses giving way to strange plants Alaina frankly supposed would look less out of place on the ocean floor. Her eyes widened as she caught her first sight of a tall plant, taller than she was by a foot, that glowed a deep burgundy and orange, sturdy-looking petals swaying in an unseen breeze. Transfixed, she reached out a hand to brush her knuckles against it, only to snatch it back as if burned when the plant abruptly drew in on itself, shrinking into a green mound on the floor.

“This is some fairy story shit…” Alaina drifted back, gaping openly at where the plant had stood, and the cluster of identical flora behind it. Her hand was warm where she'd touched it. Her heart thundered in her chest. She caught her foot on a root as she stepped back, sending herself sprawling into a mess of succulent-like plants. A few larger ones that have a faint purple glow snapped their black leaves shut and appeared to twist into the ground after she knocked into them. The other, smaller ones, little knobs on the ground, stretched out of hiding, spreading their leaves until little orbs of blue light, even brighter than the mushrooms, emerged, bathing her in what could have passed for overcast daylight. One nodded off towards her face as she stared at it, coming to rest on her cheek. In fact, they all seemed to gravitate towards her, bumping into her, stretching further out of the ground to reach her, seeming to slowly pull her in - nope!

Alaina jerked up out of the strange flowers’ embrace, her skin tingling. This was rapidly to turning from a fairy tale into one of those cult horror movies. Last year's “Beware the Fae” sequel had had her shitting her pants every time she thought about it for weeks, and the vivid images of an Almain girl getting hauled towards a pair of Faeblade scythes by living vines were making an unwelcome reappearance. Suddenly, the caverns didn't seem so wondrous. Alaina flinched every time she turned, rapidly whipping around to try and catch the invisible eyes she suddenly felt on her.

_ Calm the fuck down, Lane!  _ A whine squeezed out of her throat at her own reprimand, frightened and confused in what to do.  _ It was just a stupid movie. You don't see any red eyes in all these mushrooms, do you? Faeblades? Disembodied chuckles? It was a fucking plant, moron. Get moving. _

Alaina shook her head firmly, looked around once more to get her bearings, and stepped off once more. Strange and somewhat treacherous they may be, the flora of the cave were very beautiful. More of the red flowers and purple succulents made an appearance, along with stalks of exceedingly large and spike-protected cotton balls, blue flowers with snow white centers, and deposits of reddish dust that had built up like stalagmites. The entire scene became more transfixing by the moment, despite the danger she now knew lay under the beauty. She drifted forward, carefully examining the ground before setting her foot down. Now that she knew to listen, she heard sounds under the rushing of groundwater - a low, soft humming, not quite like that of an air conditioner but similar enough it had faded into the background before. There was the rustling of plants, as well. Did they all move of their own accord?

_ Focus, Alaina. Find something that connects the stone to this place and leave. It doesn’t matter if the plants are sentient or not.  _ She scanned the expanse of grassy floor in front of her, down a narrower side tunnel, and when she found nothing laying in wait she took off down it. Her footsteps nearly drowned out the intensifying hum as more of the glowing succulents stretched after her feet, the sound almost petulant, like a child ignored. Chills raced up and down her spine as she realized the stalks were blooming their lights behind her with increasing brightness, covering the floors, walls, and part of the ceiling. More of them laid before her, beginning to wake as she approached. She nearly screamed as what she had assumed were large rocks began to expand and unfold, releasing luminescent flowers easily twice her size. The dazzling glow made her stop, mindlessly letting the smaller stalks lean up against her ankles. With their blooming, the flowers had released dust motes - pollen? - that spun through the air and shone with the same brilliance as their host.

Alaina realized her jaw had dropped and rapidly picked it back up. “Holy mother of Mitharu...what is this?” She muttered, tapping a flower petal cautiously. Unlike the other large plants, it didn’t withdraw or make any sentient motions. A large, pale petal merely bobbed as she pressed down on it and released. More of the pollen motes escaped in a cloud, though, and Alaina stared after them, mystified. The flowers made a sound as well - less of the succulents’ humming, and more a drawn out chime. It had only gotten louder when she touched the flower. More on a whim than any rational thought, she reached out with both hands and brushed the full flower with her palms, then knelt to sift through the succulents. The flower’s glow intensified with its sound, the exact same as the succulents’. Something about the sound, so loud and close, was...harmonious. She felt as if, should she lay down, she could survive perfectly well without moving again. Why would she want to go home, anyway? They weren’t the same as her.

_ You’re not a fucking flower! What’s wrong with you?! _

She stood and continued down the tunnel, lightly brushing across each flower she passed, regardless of her inward reprimands. Having the strange plants bloom in her wake felt...somewhat magical, she’d admit. Not like the weaponized magic taught to battlemages and in civilian defense classes, either. It was a wild magic, bright and natural, if chill-inducing. She wondered how long this place had been sealed away. Centuries? Maybe. The wall of dirt obscuring it had been at least two meters thick - likely more - and it had begun at less of a hill and more of a vague rise and dip in the ground. It was possible no one had set foot here since the fall of Rathir, or even earlier. Perhaps not since the Crystal War itself. It wouldn’t surprise her if that were the case. Places like this only existed in children’s stories. They were the homes of magic, strange, humanoid beasts, magic artifacts. Fae.

She felt the same curling, chilling fear as before grip her gut before catching herself, angrily. Fae were just a story to scare little children into submission, or at worst the subject of a horror movie about several humans who got lost in the woods. She was a seasoned archaeologist. If anyone would know whether or not the Fae existed, shouldn’t it be someone like her? She’d walked enough ancient ruins, knelt in the dust of enough excavations, and she’d never seen any proof of a race outside of the five Amalur had proudly boasted in the pioneering days of the Faelands. The stories were just that - stories. The Fae didn't exist. They were just a scapegoat for what Almain settlers couldn't understand or explain.

She pressed on even faster, not quite as fearful as before. While the wonder of the flowers blooming in her wake remained, it was accompanied by a tight control. If there was some sort of enchantment here, meant to draw people in, it wouldn't be anything new to her. Digsites often had at least one cursed artifact, and she'd handled enough of them to know how to barricade her mind. Maybe, if there was an artifact at the root of it, she could dispel the curse. She'd taken the Safety in Casting course her senior year of high school - it had been a few years, but she was confident she could dispel at least a small ward. It was worth a shot, anyway. Assuming she wasn't afflicted with a fatal curse.

Pfft. No one was strong enough to make one of those anymore. If they had, back before this place was lost, it had likely lost strength already.

As she walked, the plants changed again, into plain grass and what looked like red and yellow sunflowers. Trees, of all things, ringed a nearly circular cavern, each with vibrant leaves that grew in a multitude of colors. They were so tall and immense that they formed a complete ceiling, made entirely of intricate branches and broad leaves. Some had fallen to the ground, disrupting the dark emerald of the grass with warm splashes of color. The water she'd heard had found an outlet here, as well. A moat of water around the center of the cavern was fed by two small waterfalls, making the entire space even colder than the other tunnels. At the center of the room was...something.

Alaina advanced eagerly on the monolith, shifting her stone to her hands. The tall rock was riddled with holes of different sizes, but all were neatly circular. She walked a slow circle around it, scarcely daring to so much as breathe. She was here. She was so close to solving whatever ancient mystery she'd stumbled upon.

She fitted the stone up against one of the indents, carefully loosening her grip until it nearly slipped to the ground. Too small for that one, then. She continued methodically testing the different holes in the monolith, shifting the orb to try and make it fit. One thing she discovered quickly was that, while some of the holes were completely smooth, a handful had prongs or furrows. After almost thirty minutes of trying and failing to fit the orb into one of the indents, she sat down heavily in the grass.

She frowned, looking down at the orb in her lap, and the carvings in it. Contemplating, she rose to her knees and leaned close to the monolith, inspecting one of the pronged indentations. Three of them, one short and two longer, but all narrow, and all slightly slanted. Back to the orb. The furrows in it. She traced them, thoughtfully. Five, all together.

Alaina shuffled around the monolith, inspecting each pronged indent.  _ One, two, three, four...five.  _ She grinned, a mounting feeling of excitement growing within her. She lifted the orb, carefully aligning the start of its furrows with the prongs, the dent where a crystal had sat facing outwards. A clank not dissimilar to old, heavy machinery operating rang out as the prongs fit neatly into the carvings. Alaina took that as her cue, and began turning the orb like a screw, pressing forward heavily when it didn't want to move. Slowly, it fit perfectly into the hole, locked into place by the prongs.

She grinned, victorious, absolutely positive she'd just made a giant breakthrough. Her heart soared as she threw her head back and laughed, overjoyed. She wasn't insane! She hadn't lost her job over a pointless trinket! This place was something important. No one would build a beautiful chamber like this around a  _ trinket.  _ She was quite convinced it was manmade, too. The symmetry was a little too perfect, the moat too smooth, to be natural, even discounting the massive stone at its center. This was only the beginning. Who  _ had  _ made this? And why? What was the monolith, and what was the orb? Were there any more of them?

She fell back on the grass and propped herself up on her elbows, still laughing and grinning at her discovery. This was all too good to be true. It felt as though she'd walked into a dream, something she would play at having experienced when she was younger. Nevertheless, here she was. Real. It was all real.

The grass behind her rustled, louder than usual. Alaina froze, pins pricking anxiously at the back of her neck. Was there an animal in here after all? What creature  _ would  _ live here, anyway, in the middle of all this old magic? She fought to stay calm as she reached for her magic, letting frost encase her hand and begin to radiate outwards. She turned slowly, with a trembling breath, towards the second tunnel that led away from the room.

There was nothing. Only darkness. There were no glowing mushrooms or bright plants that way. She could see the outline of more succulents, though. If she triggered them, she could see whatever lingered in the dark. An enemy in plain sight was far less dangerous than a friend in the dark, as her father had always said.

She stood, absentmindedly leaving a smear of frost on the grass. A few of the plants reared up at her approach, swaying welcomingly towards her feet. More followed them, along with several large flowers, until they illuminated something...she honestly could have gone her whole life without seeing.

It had red eyes with catlike pupils, purplish skin a few shades deeper than any Ljosalfar could boast, hair of a similar color to fire that shone golden red under the new light, and was clad head to toe in some sort of leaves. Alaina froze in fear, her stomach dropping and the ground feeling as if it had been yanked out from under her. The creature that still observed her looked like a Ljosalfar man, but  _ different. _ Far too different to be mistaken for one of them. Any other time, Alaina would have supposed he'd just had plastic surgery, maybe a bad skin coloring treatment. She wanted to believe that, and desperately wished it could have been true when she caught the glint of metal over his shoulder. She gulped, starting to stumble back. Faeblades.

A  Fae.

A Belen-cursed  _ fae. _

Before she was even aware she'd moved, she was racing back the way she'd come, screaming at the top of her lungs, the sound barely audible over her thundering heart. She never paused once until she'd broken out into natural daylight, gulping down the fresh, rain-washed air like she would never get another chance. She looked back to the hole she'd dug, descending into the earth at a little more than a forty five degree angle, and contemplated sticking around to cover it up. If Fae really existed, she couldn't be the one responsible for their return.  Far too much so for comfort. A dawning realization coiled in her gut, setting her every nerve alight with sheer panic.

_ A Fae. A Belen-cursed Fae. Shit, shit, shit! _

The movie she’d let her friends drag her to flashed across her mind again. The Almain girl, captured by vines and hauled to her death. Her little brother attempting to escape the forest, but not getting very far. The horrible imaginings of the entire series grappled her mind and set her heart to thundering so loudly she couldn’t hear anything else, even as the Fae’s lips moved to speak, revealing glinting, slightly-too-long canines. Its red eyes observed her cooly, calculating, and every rational thought she may have had shut down in the face of a rush of adrenaline. Numb, as if in a dream, she turned on her heel and fled.

The beautiful lights of the caverns’ plants flashed past her, less of a marvel now and more of a malevolent glow. There was definitely an enchantment on them, now, but with a Fae involved - she couldn’t believe this, they couldn’t be real, she would lose her mind - it was definitely much too strong for a student of basic dispelling. Not to mention impossible to get to. That Fae had control of the entire cave system, right? Wasn’t that how the stories went? If she wanted to break the enchantments, she would have to fight past it. She wasn’t going to do that. No.

She was barely aware that she was screaming, pelting through the tunnels without much thought to where she was going except out. She fell, once, twice, snagging her feet on vines that seemed to rip out of the ground at her approach. No, no, no, no… Her knees ached and stung, more than likely bleeding, and her palms weren’t much better. There was a warm wetness flowing down her face - tears at first, she knew, but after tripping and slamming head-first into one of the walls, probably blood too.

She could both hear and feel her blood rushing like a river through her veins, her heart frantically beating like a war drum to push her onwards, narrowing her vision to what was immediately in front of her. One thought. Get out. Get out. Get out or die. She no longer felt her feet touching the ground, but the walls raced past. She careened into several more of the glowing orange stalks, and felt an unnatural, searing heat cut through the material of her jeans. She gave a yell of panic, cut into by tears, as she rocketed away, sprinting desperately towards the faint light of the hole she’d dug to gain entrance.

As soon as she was outside, under the orange light of an overcast sunset, she fell to her knees, pain lancing up through her legs. The slightly sour smell of the nearby highway had never been so welcome. Neither had the roar of engines racing by. The rain had stopped, but the ground was still absolutely soaked, lending some cool relief to her bloodied knees and what she now realized were actual  _ burns _ on her legs. Was that from the plant? Did a  _ plant... _ burn her?

She stood shakily, looking back at the tunnel. In the open air, her mind had cleared some. Her lungs and sides ached badly, making each breath sting. Her legs felt as if they had turned to liquid, her knees practically knocking. She didn’t think she could flee any further on foot if the Fae gave chase, but looking back into the faintly lit caverns, she didn’t see any hint of pursuit. There were no shadows dancing on the blue-lit walls, no vines crawling over the lip of her newly-added tunnel. Perhaps she was safe. Had the stories of Fae only having power in their hollows been true? Could she let her guard down now that she stood outside of its domain? Going home would more than likely get her far enough away to not have to fear Fae magic, but...Lyria’s grace, she’d given the creature an escape route! A hole, dug right through the wall of its home! It could follow her if she left.

Taking a deep breath and drawing on her magic - the only thing left of her that wasn’t entirely exhausted - she waved her hand over the tunnel entrance. A faint light sparked at her palm, and she winced. Wards had never exactly been her forte. There was every chance this would just blow her up. Having a family history of military service, dating all the way back to the original Alfar army, had done nothing for her prowess as a battlemage. She was barely even qualified to be a street performer.

By some miracle, the light didn’t turn to exploding fire but spread outwards, molding over the opening of the tunnel. It glowed brightly, threads of magic moving unpredictably around it, and Alaina frowned, frantically trying to remember if there were any other steps to setting a ward. The wall of light wavered slightly as she recalled, with a start, that she had to have something to root the ward to. Prismere would have been preferable, but she didn’t have any of that. She had a small ring with a sliver embedded into it back at home, but nothing on her at the moment. After a quick moment’s frustration, she dug out her necklace - a copper imitation of a sword, unenchanted. She’d been saving up to have a sagecrafter set a good gem into it, but this was more pressing. I’m sorry, mom.

She clasped the charm in her free hand, directing all the mana she could muster into it. The metal grew heated in her hand, almost unbearably so, as she focused on the link between it and her ward. The magic flowed too quickly. Whether it was because of her fear or some property of the Fae hollow, she couldn’t tell. She tried to rein it in before something went awry, but as soon as she grasped the strands, the spell was over. The link she’d been weaving between the ward and the necklace snapped taut, separating from her along with a massive chunk of her mana. She gasped and staggered back from the loss, far more than she’d ever expended on a single spell. Her vision swam, and she tried to fight through it.

“...Sh...shit…” Alaina dropped halfway to the ground, shaking. She wasn’t a fool; mana exhaustion had been one of the foremost issues covered in her first magic class. Battlemages could handle it because they were used to exhaustive spell casting, and they had replenishing potions as well. She was just a researcher, struggling to not dump the contents of her stomach into the mud. She was so far from home that the only thing she could do was wait it out.

Alaina couldn’t say, afterwards, how long she’d remained there, but it was dark when she finally had the strength to sit upright. Her head throbbed badly, like she’d been beaten with a bat. So did every other part of her. The cost of using so much energy in quick succession. She looked towards her ward, uncertain it would still be there, but it was. It glowed pale blue, not particularly powerful but holding. Slowly, she stood and approached it. She poked it, testing, and a bright light in her peripheral vision startled her into looking down to where her necklace was glowing with a burnished golden light.

She’d know if the Fae tried to escape.

Good. That gave her time to get ready.

 

* * *

 

Gods willing, the Fae knew nothing about how modern battlemage uniforms were made.

Alaina couldn’t help but recall her father’s uniform, made of canvas colored the dark blue that Haxhi had claimed for its flag. It was just a plain, double-breasted button-down shirt, sleeves tucked into tough, synthesized gauntlets, with matching pants and boots. He always looked regal anyway, whenever he wore them. Someone who commanded respect and attention when he walked in the room. He didn’t tolerate anything less, truthfully.

She couldn’t help comparing her costume to the groomed esteem of her father’s garb. Icy blue and green robes, made as true to old-time Amalurian robes as possible. She didn’t look imposing - she looked like a little girl about to march to battle in a nightgown. It had been worse before she’d pinned up her hair. Her messy, unkempt red hair had made her look as unthreatening as she’d ever been. For renaissance faires, she preferred to braid her hair back neatly, taking a whole hour arranging the strands. This was much more urgent. Instead of trying for esteem, she’d tied it into a messy bun, drooping low on the back of her head. Old, cheap iron gauntlets and boots tied together what had been flowing sleeves and pant legs. Not quite the picture of graceful Alfar battlemage, but she’d make due. She only needed enough to fool the Fae.

He’d existed at the time of the Crystal War...right? He’d lived through the Alfar army’s most powerful time. That meant he would know to fear someone dressed like her. Hopefully. If not, she would pray to every god known to man, Alfar, and gnome that she could take him down anyway. The safety of her entire town may well depend on it. She’d gone and dug into his hollow, unwittingly but voluntarily giving him access to the outside world. Her ward wouldn’t hold forever, especially against Fae magic, if the stories were true.

He had to die. Plain and simple.

Unfortunately, she didn’t have any weapons to take with her. Staves were hilariously expensive, chakrams were illegal, and sceptres, when they could be found for sale, were so tightly controlled with so many restrictions and regulations that she doubted she could ever purchase one. She would be depending on what small amount of magic she knew; a blast of frost, and a small, self-generated ward that could serve as a makeshift talisman. Her nerves weren’t exactly being calm about that as she twitched and fidgeted, trying to make herself more imposing. Her cape was removed and then added again, clasped against her throat and left hanging loose, hanging down her back or cast over one shoulder. The tattoo on her forehead helped slightly, the intricate knotwork giving the illusion of a crown. She frowned at her reflection in the mirror and yanked at the hem of her tunic, trying to make its baggy folds hang straight for once. She looked herself over, again and again. Something wasn’t right. She was missing...ah!

More on impulse than anything else, Alaina hurried to her desk and picked up the elaborate dagger she’d gotten the year before. She quickly tucked it into her belt, arranging it so the unsheathed blade wouldn’t accidentally stab her as she walked. Done. She was as ready as she could be before facing down a living piece of lost history. A piece of her - the bit that had gone through four and a half years of college already for her dream job - screamed silently at the thought of killing him. What could he tell her about the past? The ruins all throughout Dalentarth? Did he know why the Fae had faded into legend? The rest of her did its best to ignore that view. Whether or not he could recite Amalur’s entire history since the discovery of the Faelands was irrelevant. He was a danger. She was the only one who knew about him, and she wasn’t about to go tell anyone else she needed help putting down one of the Fair Folk. They’d think she’d finally lost her mind. She would have to find a way to kill him, no matter what, before he escaped.

Without consciously deciding to, Alaina left her bedroom, striding towards her front door with far more confidence than she felt. She was thankful it was late enough at night that none of her neighbors were awake to the see crazy girl next door storm across her yard in billowing robes and climb into her car before slamming the door on the hem of her cape.

She opened the door and drew the rest of her cape in with a huff before turning her keys in the ignition and leaving, carefully retracing her route to the seemingly random stretch of road thirty minutes away. The moon was high in the sky, only half full tonight, but giving off enough light that she could find her way to the hollow without a flashlight. A numb peace had settled over her by then, nothing more than calm acceptance that she was going to kill someone, or be killed in turn. She’d wanted to do this for a career before, right? She’d wanted to follow in her father’s footsteps, become a battlemage for Haxhi, but it hadn’t worked out. This was no different from her old imaginings. It was like hunting “boggarts” in the woods, except she didn’t have a dog this time, and her quarry was a real, living creature.

Despite the gravity of the situation, she couldn’t help playing pretend again - she was the last of the ancient Alfar Army’s battlemages, going to do battle with a monster that kept stealing away women and children in the night. Her limbs dragged enough from the long day that she could pretend she had marched an entire day, tracking the beast to its lair. Now if only she could fake some reasonable prowess in magic…

She gripped her necklace as she approached the ward, passing through it with a faint tingle under her skin. She shivered at the feeling, struggling to keep herself in check as the strange, altogether unwelcome feeling traveled from her skin to her bones. Her shoulder hitched up in discomfort anyway. It didn’t hurt, but it certainly felt like a faint electric shock. She shook it off, turned to continue down the tunnel to the main hollow...and froze immediately.

Red eyes observed her, seeming more incredulous than predatory. The Fae’s head tilted, curiously, and Alaina gulped, starting to step back.

“Well met then, my liege! I’d harbored some hope you may have returned from the Great Cycle. May we start our work, then? I kept the records of your research, that we may continue looking into the cause of the Long Winter.” He had a pleasant voice, lightly accented and deep, strangely unaffected by how long he must have gone without speaking. This wasn’t right. Couldn’t be right. Why did she want to move closer?

Alaina felt her back hit the wall of the tunnel, choked by fear and confusion in equal measures. Who was she kidding? She couldn’t beat a Fae. Not one working magic on her, trying to muddle her mind with familiarity, trying to draw her in against her own will. She wasn’t anything close to a battlemage. She lost her grip on her magic, feeling it slip painfully into the seldom-used recesses of her mind.

_ I’m gonna die. I’m gonna fucking die _ .

“Who - who…?” She barely managed to grasp what she’d even tried to ask - who are you or who do you think I am - before the ground seemed to fall out from under her feet.

“Sagrell!”

Alaina was vaguely aware of the grass she’d fallen on, more focused on trying to control her breathing, struggling through maybe her first panic attack in years. She gasped for air, staring in flat, wide-eyed fear at the Fae, and screamed the first, entirely logical thing that came to mind.

“Who the fuck is Sagrell?!”


	2. The Song of Sir Sagrell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait! I'm not exactly sure where to take the story, so this chapter's a bit short, but I hope you enjoy!

Of all the ways Alaina had ever woken up, this was the strangest. She’d opened her eyes to a summer snowstorm, a large water bird perched on her chest, and even to a wide open sky with her tent stolen from over her during the night. Never, in all her years, even in her wildest dreams, had she imagined she would ever wake up to a Fae dabbing at her face with a cool cloth, a look of concern and uncertainty on his sharp face. It was so unexpected, in fact, that she couldn’t bring herself to fully comprehend it for several moments.

A faint spark of fear floated around the back of her mind as she stared at the Fae’s crimson eyes, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t grasp why it was there. She grimaced and her brows furrowed from the dull ache in her skull and the ill taste of thirst. The Fae tutted like an exasperated grandmother, using the cloth to try and smooth out her forehead. He tilted his head, expression unchanging, as he continued trying to wipe away the wrinkles.

“Don’t do that, Sagrell. Your face will stick.” A small chuckle left him with a slight upward quirk of his lips that looked entirely unnatural. “Don’t you remember your last cycle? I don’t imagine you’d want that again. Oh, now that’s not exactly better.”

Alaina squinted her eyes, a part of her still convinced she was asleep. Or was trying to make sense of all this. She couldn’t tell, from the fleetingness of her thoughts. They were like oil, slipping too easily through her fingers before she could properly grasp them. She pressed her lips together in a thin line, blinking hard. Why did her head hurt so much?

“Come on now, Sagrell. I know you dustlings enjoy your games, but this is serious. Wake up, now. Up.” Again, his face didn’t change much, but Alaina got a faint impression of exasperation. What was that about? Was it just how he was, or was it all Fae?

Fae.

Shit.

She tried to scream, but all that came out was a high-pitched squeak that died quickly. Her arms flashed up to cover her face as she rolled away. Her legs caught in what felt like a blanket laid over her, sending her to the floor in a less-than-graceful heap. She dimly heard another concerned question of “Sagrell?” as she kicked wildly to free herself. When her legs moved more freely, she struggled to her feet and summoned a spell to her hand. The frost manifested as barely more than a cool mist, falling weakly from her palm.

“Oh, that’s hardly called for, Sagrell -”

“Why do you keep calling me that?” Alaina’s voice broke more than she’d meant it to, from the dryness of her throat. The Fae tilted his head again, faint shock registering on his face.

“Don’t tell me you can’t remember?” He moved towards her, stepping fluidly around the raised bed-like structure she’d been laying on. She skittered back across the floor in response, feeling the tall, unnaturally bright cave-grass brush against her legs. There was something in his movement that reminded her of a predator - the steady footsteps of someone who’d hardly ever been presented a true threat. If she’d actually been able to join the battlemages, she might have met his stance. As it was, she was very starkly aware that she was a (frankly squishy) researcher, with little to no command over magic.

He stopped several paces away, still intimidating even without movement. He looked to be wearing all leaves, true to the old stories her parents had told her, but they weren’t primitive as she’d always been led to believe. The scalloped leaves almost gave the impression of a very fine doublet - the type that was popular with the first Almain monarchs in Dalentarth. Living vines curled around the hems like embroidery, tying together in intricate knots. The pattern was somehow familiar, and the part of her that was an archaeologist first and wanted to live second slowed to try and make the connection.

“You truly don’t.” The Fae was examining her closely now, with a critical eye. “Well, I can’t say the possibility never crossed my mind. Dustlings simply weren’t made for the Great Cycle, and given your laps of memory last time…” He grimaced, as though thinking of something unpleasant. “Cydan won’t appreciate this, but no matter. It just means we’ll have to reinform you before we begin.”

Alaina gulped, trying to wet her mouth, before speaking, hoarsely. Exactly how long had she been unconscious? “Whatever - whatever spell you’re trying to cast, it won’t work.” Lie, lie, lie. Make him think it won’t work, even if it would. “You are…” she broke off, coughing, “you are speaking to an Alfar battlemage, and your magic won’t affect me.”

“You’re much less polite than in your last cycle, Sagrell. I know you don’t recognize me, but you weren’t so prone to aggression against strangers before.” He paused. “Well, aside from bandits and Tuatha. Shall we begin?”

“Begin what?” The words, while sharp and suspicious, weren’t what she intended. She’d wanted to say no, I don’t trust you, but the question slipped out before she could stop it. Something in her morbidly wanted to see what would “begin.” _Lyria, I feel like I’m in the opening scene of Beware the Fae 4. Then again, they’ve never been overly fond of having Alfar characters die off._

“Your song, of course. If we’re to continue our old work, you need to at least know what you did in your past Cycle, even if you don’t truly remember. That may yet come later.” The Fae turned and left, posture still proud and tall with that predatory quality to his gait. It seemed almost unconscious. When he reached the door - a real door, even if it looked as beaten and weathered as the ones on Shieldring Keep before they were replaced - he turned to look at her critically. His behaviors had taken a clear turn from unabashed friendliness to the stern demeanor of a teacher, and Alaina wasn’t sure which she was more threatened by.

“Come along, Sagrell. This isn’t a proper place to recount the Last Telling.”

Alaina’s eyes flicked around the room as quickly as she was able. There was a shallow, slightly luminescent pool in one corner, fed by a steady drip from the ceiling, and a large, glowing green orb on a stalk beside it, with the strange bed in the center of the room, but no visible exit besides the one the Fae already stood in. Gulping (discreetly, she hoped), Alaina followed him. He seemed happy with her obedience and turned to stride out of the door and down a long, grassy corridor filled with the same bioluminescent flora that had lit up the rest of the cave, only these were more artfully arranged and maintained. For one, a narrow dirt path was beaten through the glowing succulents, which still stretched to snag her legs but couldn’t quite reach.

“Strange, aren’t they?” The Fae’s deep voice startled her out of her contemplation of the plants. She’d never seen anything like them, but he didn’t spare them more than a bemused glance. Typical, since he lived here among them. “I can’t claim to know their state in the greater world, but when I returned from the Cycle, these seemed almost starved for magic. They still are, apparently. I like to sit among them, to make certain they get their fill. You should consider it, as well. They may help you with your memories.”

The Fae had kept moving while speaking, while Alaina had frozen in place. The plants bobbed towards her with motions more like they were submerged in water than the invisible wind that had seemed to move them before. A lazy bob instead of laying nearly flat and reaching. She considered reaching down to touch them, to see if they were any different than the others, when the Fae cleared his throat somewhere ahead of her. Her heart jumped into her throat and she hurried after him. The longer she was awake, the more she wanted to go home. Maybe this Fae wasn’t so bad as the ones in the movies. Maybe he was one of the Fae from the stories her grandmother had claimed were bad luck to tell - the ones who entertained themselves by playing harmless jokes on mortals. Maybe, if she listened to his...song, he’d let her go without a fight. The more she watched him, the more she was sure that, if she had to fight him, she wouldn’t win. She was easily tall for an Alfar, due largely to her mostly Ljosalfar heritage, but he was half a head taller than her, with enough bulk and muscle that she half expected to find a set of barbells and weights somewhere in the caverns, if she were brave enough to go adventuring.

“Don’t fall behind, Sagrell, we’re almost to the center of the Hollow.”

Was it just her imagination, or did the Fae’s voice sound...more echoey? Her interest piqued more than her trepidation, and she sped up to walk just behind the Fae. She still shied away from getting within arm’s reach, but with the realization that she wasn’t in immediate danger she was becoming more curious. What exactly could she learn while she was here? Was this a song in the style of a limerick, a ballad, or had he somehow heard a Cami Ilvhi song and was about to perform it just for shits and giggles? If it was a ballad or limerick, would it be historically accurate and tell a story, or just nonsense? She struggled to keep herself in check through her excitement. She still didn’t want to be too close, and kept having to fall back after catching herself just short of colliding with him.

“There’s another difference between your behaviors in these past two Cycles.” There was definitely an echo to the Fae’s voice now, and looking ahead she saw that the tunnel they’d just turned down was opening up into a wide cavern. “I remember, the last time I saw you, you struggled to keep up with anyone. You can go ahead, if you wish. I need to collect myself for the Telling.”

He moved side, gesturing ahead, and some type of enchantment must have finally gotten through her meager defenses because she kept walking right past him, offering a small, nervous smile. There were marks in the stone ahead that indicated there had been a large door at one point, but it was gone now. Likely rotted away, though how such an apparently important piece had been allowed to waste away when the other, smaller door was so well-maintained baffled her. Her step faltered as she passed through it, and she stopped just inside.

The cavern beyond was...nothing short of incredible. They couldn’t have been that far underground, but the ceiling seemed a hundred feet above her head, made of large, deliberately placed stones. The walls were circular and smooth, with strange, teal-leaved trees growing flush against them and fanning sparsely-covered branches across the ceiling. There were mosaics everywhere - of any kind she could imagine. Paintings, faded into disrepair; panels of stained glass that had lost their luster after so long underground. A spiral of raised earth spread out from the very center of the cavern, where water quietly welled out of a narrow hole in the ground. The entire place looked to be in considerably worse repair than the rest of the Hollow, with a swampy floor and the dead husks of plants spread throughout.

Alaina drifted further in. The intense buzz of magic in the air wasn’t so thick here - nowhere near as intoxicating. Yet she could still feel it, locked away by unknown restraints. Part of her wanted to reach out and claim it, like when she was a child and her father left his staff leaning beside the door, but she stopped, realizing with some mortification that she’d reached her hand out into the open air. _And here I thought I had at least some self-control_.

She was examining one of the glass panels, brushing away years’ worth of dust, when her host spoke up.

“That is Farrara. A dear friend of yours, in your last Cycle.” The Fae stood several feet behind her. Alaina spun, her feet splashing in ankle-deep water and mud. He continued speaking. “I will explain his song in greater detail - later. He was a brave warrior, even if he rarely took a threat seriously. In every telling, he has known you - Sagrell - as a dear friend and brother-at-arms.” He smiled, then. A truer expression than any other so far.

“I really think you’ve...mistaken me for someone.” Alaina’s voice stuck in her throat from the bizarreness of her situation. The Fae tilted his head curiously. “I’ve never heard of this Sagrell, I don’t remember you, or Farrara, or any Fae. I didn’t even know Fae existed, until now!”

“Well, that is much the same as I expected. The dustlings have never been a people with long or reliable memories. Now, should we get to the matter at hand?”

The Fae clapped his hands, turning and striding to one of the raised furrows in the ground. He sat on what must have been the driest spot in the entire cavern and crossed his legs. Alaina followed, sitting on her knees and fixing her attention on him.

“Now, I’m not sure how your Cycles work, Sagrell, so let me know if anything sparks a memory. The Song of Sir Sagrell…”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit short. I've been attempting to write very long chapters, but it was hurting my writing, not helping it. I hope I can post more often if I don't try to write large chapters every time.
> 
> Also, largely unrelated, but I tried to introduce another OC, Ren, here. I'm not sure if I did her justice, but here's hoping!

“ _ Sagrell.  _ I’m not Sagrell. Why the  _ hell… _ ” Alaina kicked viciously at a rock, wandering back towards her car in a meandering path. Not only had the Fae - Hallam, he’d said his name was - unceremoniously told her he believed she was Fae, sort of, but that she had lived  _ during the Crystal War _ . Complete and utter bullshit, she’d tried to tell him. Nonsense. She was an archaeologist and a cosplayer and had actual parents that she was  _ born  _ to rather than just  _ appearing  _ in a cave. There was no way she was Fae. None. No matter how much that traitorous part of her mind whispered,  _ what if it were true? Wouldn’t that be amazing? _

The Song of Sir Sagrell had been lengthy enough that she’d apparently passed a whole day listening to it, and the related context from when it was recorded, when she asked. Hallam became increasingly confused with her lack of “memory.” Everything he’d ended up telling her about the ancient Faelands could’ve filled an entire textbook and a half, even with the inconsequential “fluff” information filtered out. She itched to write down everything she could, to go back into the Hollow with her phone or a recorder and have Hallam just  _ talk _ about whatever subject he could think of, for the wealth of knowledge she’d otherwise have spent her entire life searching for, without ever finding as much.

Lost in thought as she approached her car, Alaina slipped a hand into her pocket, curling her fingers around the large red petal Hallam had given her when she’d asked about the plants lining the caverns. It was still warm, but not as scorching as when the Fae had expertly snatched it from its parent plant. Embereyes. They were useful for healing potions -  _ actual healing potions  _ \- certain poisons, and tonics meant to increase the strength of fire magic. Their petals were also beautiful. Hallam had offered to pick another plant, called Black Cohosh, and brew her a simple potion to help with the bruises that peppered her body, but she’d refused for the sole purpose of keeping the petal. While it looked reddish-orange from a distance, when she leaned close and looked, it was covered in tiny, intricate patterns of crimson, gold, and orange that faded into a deep purple towards the base and tip of it. Those purple spots were the key to harvesting it, apparently. They were cooler than the orange areas, and for some reason the plant didn’t retract as quickly when the purple area of a petal was grabbed. Just enough time to yank it free, and it was fragile enough that ancient alchemist had the time of their  _ fucking  _ lives trying to get a petal without ripping it.

In any case, she felt more comfortable, returning to the outside world with proof that she hadn’t imagined her encounter. She carefully removed the petal from her pocket, setting it in the passenger seat with slight reverence. A living piece of the past, that’s what it was. She may have handled Embereyes before, as a fossil or pouch of long-dried, crushed reagents, but holding a fresh sample...that was the sort of thing that had driven her to archaeology in the first place.

Hallam was...something else, too. She wasn’t sure what to think of him anymore. He obviously wasn’t dangerous - maybe? With all the time she’d spent in his company, scant as it was, he’d never made a threatening move towards her. She’d only run and ended up hurting herself through her own jumpy fear.

Her father would be disappointed in her, for her uncontrolled reactions. She scowled at the thought, gathering the skirts of her robes to climb into her car.

The movement irritated the burns along her leg, where she’d careened into an Embereyes plant. Hallam had assured her that it was a mild burn, and she should bounce back from it quickly, but Alaina had her reservations. What if it had magical components? Did Embereyes burns have different properties to normal ones? What if she lost her leg, or needed to go to the hospital?

She sighed heavily. Only one thing for it. She’d need help with her “task,” anyway.

\---------------------

“‘Lane, you’d better have a damn good reason for this.” Renee leaned heavily against her doorframe. Heavy bruises circled her eyes - she hadn’t been sleeping. Again. Not that Alaina expected any different, around this time of year. If she knew how to help, she would, but all of the tips, tricks, and medications they’d gone through did next to nothing. Instead, she ducked quickly through the door, putting on a bright grin and jokingly offering an arm to her old friend.

“Ha, ha.” Renee smirked, a bit blandly. She lightly shoved Alaina’s arm away, walking past her towards the kitchen. Despite the long time since Alaina had been able to make the drive to Ettinmere for a visit, the alternating sounds of Renee’s good foot and her prosthetic felt like a homecoming. If Alaina ever had a sister, she would want it to be Renee. Even if the other woman was Varani, she was the most absolutely, unquestionably amazing friend she’d ever made.

Renee slumped into a chair at the table, practically collapsing. A cup of tea sat in front of her, from before Alaina arrived. Alaina dropped her smile, hurrying to sit beside her. “Hey, you’re not dying on me, right?”

“I should be asking  _ you _ that question.” Renee halfheartedly glared through her bangs. “It’s...damn, it’s nearly dawn! I really, really doubt this is a social visit.”

“Well, uh...you’d be right, sort of. You’re really - not going to believe this.” She templed her hands, grimacing. Renee’s glare went flat.

“You didn’t get kicked out, did you?”

“No! No, no, no,” Alaina drummed her fingers on the table for a split second before templing them again. “Although, uh...I might be soon, if I’m not careful. I need your help. With a couple of things.”

Renee watched her critically, face unusually stern from her lack of sleep. Her brown eyes pierced Alaina like knives, with their sudden suspicion. One corner of the Varani’s mouth curled down. “Lane, I know you haven’t found a new job as fast as you’d like, but that isn’t an excuse to turn to crime.”

“I’m not!” She paused a moment, wincing inwardly. Liar, liar...sort of. “I’ve practically got a guaranteed job buckled down, anywhere I want. I...I found something.”

All at once, Renee’s demeanor changed. She sat up straight, with some difficulty, eyes brightening and her jaw dropping. She leaned forward, clasping Alaina’s shoulders. “Really? And it wasn’t already claimed by Motus? Where? When? Shit, why didn’t you tell me sooner?! You must’ve been on this for months!”

Alaina laughed, stomach still twisting with nervous butterflies. “I didn’t think it was going to be something this... _ huge _ . It’s kind of connected to why I got fired from Motus.”

“Spill. Now. This is the first exciting thing that’s happened around here in...well, probably since you tried to jump off the roof into the neighbor’s pool.”

“Well...you know the official reason that I was fired for, right? The whole, ‘inappropriate conduct resulting in harm to an excavation site’ thing? That’s not true. I kind of...took an artifact from the dig. It looked  _ important _ , and the supervisor wanted me to just toss it into the woods.” Alaina made a face at the memory of her old boss. Renee laughed, a touch viciously.

“I’m guessing it was still Ed, that crusty old bitch?”

“You know it.” Alaina quickly moved on. Just the thought of Ed Broscin irritated her, for his treatment of both herself and Renee. “So I didn’t throw it. Thought I’d take it home with me, see if I could make any sense of it, and why it was buried in a set of ruins near Uduath. Never thought they’d get so  _ pissed  _ about that. I was out within the week, and back with Mom and Dad. For some reason, they didn’t search very hard for the artifact, and it was still at the bottom of my duffel when I was kicked out. I didn’t really have anything to do other than apply for new jobs, so I started researching it. That’s a really long story, actually. In summary, I found a bunch of sites about a similar thing found in Lorca-Rane, mostly criticizing how unexplained it was, some conspiracy theories, an actual online  _ cult _ that worships the thing, and by the time I was combing through ‘Ancient Visitors’ conspiracy threads I decided to just go out to the museum in New Sidhe to see it for myself. Turns out the museum didn’t have it on display anymore, but they still had records of it in their archives.”

“Their archives? How’d you get in there? Motus could’ve gotten you permission, but-” Renee’s eyes narrowed sharply. “Did you break into the museum archives?”

“‘Break in’ is a strong term. I just...hid in the museum until all the staff went home, and they didn’t lock the archive doors.” Alaina smiled sheepishly as Renee groaned, exasperated. “They didn’t have very complete records on the other artifact, except that it was found  _ in  _ Warden’s Bridge, that little town out in the middle of the forest, when some old guy was digging a trench for water pipes. It was really vague on the exact details - and that was fucking great, not being able to even  _ visualize  _ the discovery - but it had a couple of names. The old guy, his grand-niece and a couple of workers from Lorca-Rane, who’d all been listed as owners or contributors to the find. I went and talked to them, and it turns out they had a lot more to say than the museum put down. One of the workers had some talent with magic, and he swore up and down that he’d sensed some kind of dormant enchantment on the artifact. He also turned out to be part of the cult that worshipped it.”

“Whoa.” Renee blinked. “All these years of getting excited over ancient spoons, and suddenly you’re off doing movie-type stuff. You actually spoke to a cultist? How’d that go?”

“Better than you’d think. He  _ did  _ try and recruit me, but he backed off pretty easily when I said I wasn’t interested. So anyway, he gave me some pretty good leads. There were a few places he and the others cultists thought had more artifacts - pretty broad places, like  _ all  _ of Erathell for one of them - and they also had three theories on where what they called ‘The Hub’ would be. Sort of a point of convergence for the power they believed was stored in each artifact, and they wanted to know where it was so that they could start taking all the artifacts to it. They believed it would let them tap into extraordinary magicks if they did.”

“Freaky. What next?”

Alaina nervously drummed her fingers on the table again. Moment of truth. “I may have...actually found the Hub. The artifact I had fit perfectly into an obelisk inside this freaky sort of underground forest, except they’re not just artifacts. They’re called Fae Cairns, and the obelisk is called an Echostone, and you won’t  _ believe _ what I found out-”

“Dammit, are you possessed?”

Alaina stared at Renee for a moment, glare-to-glare, then cracked a smirk. “You wish. However, I may be immortal.”

Another laugh broke out of Renee. She bowed over, her windchime laugh gradually turning into a breathless cackle. When she sat back up, leaning sideways onto the table, a few tears had escaped her eyes. Alaina pursed her lips, the butterflies in her gut changing into a clenched anticipation. “Oh, that’s great! You didn’t have to come all this way to tell me a joke, Lane! I appreciate it, though. It has been  _ rough  _ around here the last few weeks, and I really needed that. Oh my god, that’s amazing.” She playfully punched Alaina’s arm. “You really had me going! Thinking you’d turned all secret agent on me!”

“Ren-”

“You probably could’ve picked a better time for it, though. Couldn’t you have dropped around, say, noonish, instead of hellish-o’clock? It’s  _ early _ !”

“Ren!” Alaina clapped a hand over Renee’s mouth, scowling. The woman was still smirking, for a moment, playful amusement in her eyes, until she was forced to actually  _ look _ at Alaina. She went deathly still, then. Carefully, Alaina removed her hand and sat back in her chair.

“It’s not a joke, is it?” Her voice was quiet. Almost awed, and definitely frightened. “You did all that stuff. The museum, the cult, the Hub...are you actually immortal?”

“It’s sort of up in the air at the moment.” Alaina rubbed her eye. She was tired, even if she was nowhere near Renee’s level of exhaustion. She’d been up all day, listening to an ancient Fae tell her all about Sir Sagrell, and then all night driving to Ettinmere. And with everything on her mind, including her possible immortality or mistaken identity, she doubted she’d be able to sleep when she  _ did  _ get to bed. “This is the part I  _ really  _ don’t think you’ll believe.”

“Hit me. I can take it.”

Alaina took the opening to swipe at her friend’s head. Renee scowled without any real heat, silently holding up her middle finger.

“So, on to the kicker.” Alaina put her hand over Renee’s mouth again. “Don’t give me that look, it’s a precaution so you don’t start yelling. Here it is - you’re going to think I’m completely insane, but the Fae are real and I  _ may  _ sort of kinda maybe be a  _ variant  _ of Fae.”

A muffled, high-pitched would’ve-been-a-scream came from behind Alaina’s hand. Renee’s eyes were blown wide in disbelief, and in a moment she’d knocked Alaina’s hand away and seized her shoulders frantically, rising to sit on her knees in her chair and putting her face almost directly in the Alfar’s.

“Fae? As in ‘ _ Return of the Fae _ ’ Fae? One of  _ those _ ?” In the blink of an eye, Renee had climbed into Alaina’s lap, hugging her tightly. “You’re never allowed to leave, okay? Those movies scare the shit out of me, my brother decided we needed to watch them a couple days ago, and do you know how much I’d give to have my own Fae guarding me?”

“Your other leg?”

“Shut up.” Renee buried her face in Alaina’s shoulder before pausing. Her voice was muffled. “Why are you wearing robes?”

“Ah...there’s sort of an actual Fae living in the Hub. I tried to scare him by dressing like an ancient battlemage. He’s nice, though. Talked to him  _ all _ day today - yesterday? - whatever. He thinks I may be a resurrected Fae-like warrior from the time of the Crystal War. Wasn’t exactly clear on her name, though. Sagrell, Wencen, Vyra - he used them practically interchangeably. He called me Sagrell, mostly, though.”

Renee slowly sat up, meeting Alaina’s eyes with wonder. “You absolute  _ bitch _ . You know you’ve got to show me all of this now, right? Let’s go. Let’s go right now, I mean it, get up!” She stood up in a hurry, yanking Alaina up after her. “I want to meet this Fae and get the whole story!”

“Hey, hey we can do that later!” Alaina groaned, trying to sink back into her chair only for Renee to forcibly stand her up. “I haven’t slept in at least a day, alright? I don’t think I can drive right now, and besides that, I need your help with a couple things before we can go back.”

“Well, spit it out! I can try and do them while you’re sleeping, so we can go! This is  _ literally  _ the stuff of legends, Lane! Do you need to call your parents, let them know you won’t be home tonight?”

Reality hit Alaina like a brick wall. In the fantasy world she’d fallen into for the past couple of days, she’d forgotten that she had a family that she’d already been apart from for two nights with no explanation. “Oh shit. I’ll call them in a bit, but...any chance you could help me with my leg? As much as I’d like for us to get matching prosthetics, I’m not comfortable with having an untreated magical burn.”

Renee snapped her fingers and turned on her heel, striding towards the bathroom to dig out her first aid kit. Once a field medic, always a field medic. “Got it. What was the other thing you wanted help with?”

“I need to find out whether I’m actually Fae. Apparently, those Cairns I mentioned? They may have been made and enchanted by me in my past life, to hold the full account of who I was and what I did, like a magical autobiography. The Fae, Hallam, believes that once I’ve heard the full story I may remember who I was before, or feel more at peace with it. So...if you’re up for it, I need you to come along with me and help find the other Cairns.”

The sound of shattering glass came from the bathroom.

“Uh...Ren?”

“ _ Hell yes! _ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, I'm counting on the five or six people who read this - absolutely roast my writing. This is my favorite fandom, and I want to give my absolute best to it. I want to find any errors, know what the fandom wants to see, and write this story accordingly. I'm not gonna lie, the outline is already shaping up to be a monster of a tale, even if it'll take me some time to actually write it.
> 
> I look forward to hearing from you all!


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